


Spiral Turn

by chaostheorem



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dancing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaostheorem/pseuds/chaostheorem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are the first same-sex pair on Dancing with the Stars. Not good, because Dean is meant to be a professional, and his crush on Castiel is anything but.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spiral Turn

**Author's Note:**

> Read it on [tumblr](http://apocalypticgal.tumblr.com/post/84955595284/destiel-dwts-au-warning-for-one-instance-of).

“Is this a prank? Are you pranking me, Bobby?” Dean asked, disbelieving.

“It’s not a prank. You’re dancing with Novak this season,” Bobby said, gruff and unruffled as ever behind his desk, shuffling papers around.

“Um, are we purposefully ignoring the fact that we’re both dudes? This isn’t exactly par for the course.”

“I don’t care if you’re both packing peckers. He’s the It man right now and the network wants him.”

“I get that,” Dean said, and he did. Castiel Novak was straight off of winning two Olympic gold medals in ice dancing, and on top of that, the guy always looked like he’d just had the best lay of his life. Forget Stars on Ice. Castiel was Sex on Ice. The judges and the audience ate up those baby blues, the ruffled hair, the chiseled jaw, and that lean, hard body - shown off in the best ways thanks to his complicated twists and turns.

So maybe Dean was one of those that ate it up, but that didn’t mean he wanted to dance with him. Ballroom dancing wasn’t perceived as the most masculine of sports, and Dean had worked hard almost his entire life to show that it could be. Hell, he was still in the closet because of it. Only Sam and Bobby knew that he was bi. Dancing with a male partner wasn’t going to help.

“You can stop that train of thought right there, boy.”

Bobby’s words startled Dean for a second, and he had to go back over the last minute in his head to make sure he wasn’t talking out loud.

Bobby shook his head. “I know you. You’re thinking that you can’t do this and maintain your tough guy image. Bullshit. Two guys dancing together isn’t gay. You wanting to jump the poor bastard’s bones is. Restrain yourself, and the rest will take care of itself.”

Dean sputtered at the insinuation that he’d be all over Castiel, but Bobby stared, unamused. “I know your type just as well as I know you. Believe me, I tried to get you out of this, and not because you’re both men. But the network wants Novak, and Novak wants you, which means they’re too fool to listen to the man who’s known you since you were in diapers.”

“Wait, Castiel requested me?” Dean asked, overlooking the frankly offensive implication that he was unprofessional enough to sleep with a contestant. That was one time.

“He did,” Bobby said, returning his attention to the papers he was looking over. “Don’t ask me why, because he didn’t say.”

“Interesting,” was all Dean said before he got up and turned to leave.

“And don’t go bugging him about it!” Bobby called after him.

+++

Dean lasted five minutes into their introduction before he had to ask.

“So, uh...why did you ask for me specifically?”

Castiel frowned, confused, as if Dean should have known. “I watched videos of all of the professionals. You are clearly the best.”

“Oh,” Dean said, strangely disappointed in the compliment. He was hoping that Castiel would turn out to be a dick to offset his looks, but aside from social awkwardness, the guy was as polite as they came. Then again, they were only a few minutes in, and they hadn’t even trained together yet. Fingers crossed that he would be an asshole then.

“Is that a problem?” Castiel asked, genuine concern in his voice, as if he had never considered that Dean wouldn’t want to dance with him.

“No, no,” Dean said, waving the issue away. He looked around their training room to avoid glancing at Castiel’s ass in his tighter-than-tight pants. _Please, please an asshole_ , Dean begged internally.

“How do you want me?” Castiel asked, apropos of nothing.

“What?” Dean squeaked out, but in a manly way.

Castiel gave him that confused look again, and Dean was beginning to think that was his natural look. “Will you be leading or will I?”

“Right,” Dean said. “Of course. I’ll take the lead at first, and if we want to switch things up later, we can always do that.”

“Excellent. I’m ready to begin when you are.”

Dean almost groaned. He was nowhere near ready for this.

+++

Their first half of the season couldn’t have gone better. They’d lucked out and gotten the Quickstep, the Jive, the Paso Doble, and the Jitterbug up front. With any other partner, Dean would have cursed heaven and hell for having those dances back to back. The steps require precision and speed, and most celebrity contestants struggle. Not Cas, though. He flourished. Their Lindy Hop got them into the quarterfinals with no problems, thanks to the fact that they could each flip the other, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Bobby had had something to do with that. Sometimes it helped having your old family friend run your show.

Just like the Olympics, the judges and the audience fell in love with Castiel. Dean had worried that Castiel’s seriousness and perpetual frown in training would transfer to the live show, but Cas was a consummate performer, throwing himself fully into whatever storyline their dance played out. Dean was continually amazed by the range of emotions on Castiel’s face during dances.

As thankful as Dean was to have their technically difficult dances up front, they were left with the Waltz, the Ramba, the Mambo, and the Salsa. Four of the most sensual dances for the next month, and Dean’s crush on Castiel wasn’t going anywhere. If anything, it was stronger than ever. Cas _did_ turn out to be a bit of an asshole during training, but only when he thought something wasn’t working. For some reason it only turned Dean on more, and knowing that Cas was off limits didn’t help.

Bobby seemed to recognize this, because the week before their Waltz, he sent a text to Dean that simply read “ _Keep it in your pants. If I have to supervise your sessions, I will._ ”

Four more weeks. Four weeks of Castiel pressed up close against him, swaying and grinding together. Great.

+++

“One, two, three, one, two, three,” Dean counted as they stepped. “No, no,” he said, dropping his arms, letting Castiel’s arms fall as well.

Dean stepped back and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. They’d been practicing choreography for hours, but something was off with Cas today. “What’s with you, Cas?” he asked, frustrated. “You suck.”

“I do not ‘suck,’ Dean,” Castiel said, complete with air quotes, his own frustration evident. “This dance sucks.”

Dean sighed, trying to calm himself down. They were both tense after last week, when their Mambo had been a disaster. The crowd hadn’t been into it at all, and the judges had lambasted them for their stiffness. Balthazar, often their staunchest supporter, had described it as “two stiff pieces of wood bouncing against each other.” If not for the hilariousness of the double entendre, Dean would have wanted to punch him.

They’d gotten the lowest scores of the season when it hurt them the most, so Dean understood Castiel’s frustration. Didn’t mean he had to like it.

“It’s a Waltz, Cas. I know you like the technical dances, but everyone has to do a Waltz.”

“It’s not the Waltz that I have a problem with. I know what a Waltz is, Dean, and this isn’t it.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean complained, throwing his hands up. He knew he was being dramatic, but he was the professional here. Hearing Cas critique his Waltz was not something he’d put up with. “What about this isn’t a Waltz? Is it the Hairpin? The Whisk? The Oversway, the Swing? What? What is it?” He’d crowded into Cas’ space as he spoke, and when he realized, he made to move back, but Cas was suddenly right there, standing up for himself.

“There is no life, Dean. We’re worse than we were last week.”

“Well, I’m trying my best here. If you want to lead, be my guest.”

Dean didn’t know why he was so surprised that Cas took him at his word. All he knew was that one second, they were standing and arguing, and the next, Cas was twirling them around the floor and it was all Dean could do to keep up.

Dean didn’t even think as they danced. He let Cas do what he wanted and hung on. On the final dip, Cas pulled Dean back up so quickly and so forcefully that their faces were a mere inch from each other. They were both panting, puffs of breaths hitting the other’s lips. Their eyes were locked, and Dean knew that Cas would kiss him back if he leaned forward and closed that tiny space between their lips.

Dean swallowed. “Personal space, buddy,” he joked instead.

Cas blinked, like he was coming out of a trance. “Right. Perhaps we should take a break,” he said, letting go of Dean liked he’d been burned. He turned, picked up his coat, and left.

“Jesus,” Dean muttered to himself, pointedly ignoring the cameras recording everything.

+++

Dean knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but read the comments on the video from their Waltz.

Mary Crickett thought that the dance was “ _omg so hott!!!”_

JILL JOLANO hated Uriel for giving them their one nine and keeping them from a forty. “ _Uriel is a crusty jealous bastard”_

Jena’s Secret thought it was the “ _best dance of the season”_

Kira thought they were “ _fucking faggots”_

Most of the comments were positive and focused on the dance, but there were a few that were more personal.

“ _Look how smitten Dean is! That boy has got it bad!”_

“ _if those two aren’t banging I’ll eat my shoe”_

“ _Kiss kiss kiss! You know they wanted to. I need those full rehearsal tapes NOW”_

“ _THERES SO MUCH UST IT HURTS_ ”

Dean had to google what _ust_ was, and he couldn’t say that he disagreed.

As if he knew what Dean was doing, a text buzzed through from Sam. “ _Saw your dance last night. Hope you know what you’re doing._ ”

“ _you know me sammy_ ” he texted back.

A few seconds later, and Sam replied, “ _Shit. Good luck._ ”

+++

If he’d thought the Waltz was bad, the Salsa was torture. The thirty-nine from the judges had invigorated Cas, and he was determined that this dance was going to be sexy as hell. Dean didn’t stand a chance.

“Can we take a break?” Dean asked for the fourth time in an hour.

Castiel huffed and stepped away. “We need to practice. What do you need now?”

“I know,” Dean said, leaving it at that. He didn’t think Cas would appreciate the cameras picking up “I have to take a break every five minutes because you keep grinding your ass against my crotch and giving me a boner.”

Dean thought unsexy thoughts for a minute - hard to do with Cas bending over in the corner of his eyesight. Cas was messing with his phone as he stretched. Probably texting his ice dancing partner about how unprofessional Dean was.

Dean’s own phone buzzed, and he saw that Cas had texted him. He glanced at the cameras before taking a peek at whatever Cas had thought too private to say aloud.

“ _If you need to take ten in the bathroom to jerk off, do it now so that we can get to work._ ”

Dean almost dropped his phone as he hurriedly tried to make sure none of the cameras could pick up the text.

“ _What the hell man?!_ ”

“ _Masturbation is natural and healthy._ ”

“ _Doesn’t mean I want to talk to you about it!_ ”

“ _Apologies_ ” was all that Cas texted back, suddenly looking shy when he’d looked perfectly confident suggesting that Dean masturbate.

Dean started to text back when Ash, their lead cameraman stepped up to him. “Look, man. I don’t care if you guys want to text, but the bosses aren’t going to be happy about it. Mind putting those things away?” he asked, gesturing to Dean’s phone.

“Yeah, man. One sec,” he said, sending a quick “ _We’ll talk later_ ” to Cas before tucking his phone away and getting back to work.

+++

Despite Dean’s best attempts, Castiel apparently didn’t want to talk to him. He showed up for training and rehearsals and he smiled for the cameras, but as soon as Dean tried to bring up the text incident, Cas shut down.

As indifferent as Cas was being now, Dean could only assume that Cas had taken Dean’s reluctance to talk about masturbation with him as a rejection. Dean desperately wanted to explain how wrong that was. Dean didn’t want to talk about it with Cas because he liked him. If it was anyone else, he could go on and on until they begged him to stop.

Somehow, they made it to the final without talking about anything that doesn’t pertain to dancing. Whether they won or lost, their training and their time together was coming to an end, and Dean found himself much more devastated at that than he thought possible. Three months ago he’d hated the thought of dancing with Cas. Now, he hated the thought of dancing with anyone but.

So he did what he always did when he panicked - something monumentally stupid.

+++

“And the winner of this season’s _Dancing with the Stars_ is….”

Chuck’s voice trailed off as the crowd waited with baited breath. Dean and Cas stood side by side, hands clasped together. Next to them were Kevin and Jo, their competition, also waiting anxiously.

Except Dean wasn’t waiting. Taking the thirty seconds of unnecessary wait time to his advantage, he turned to Castiel, who looked at him as if he’d grown a second head.

“Win or lose,” he said, knowing the mics would pick everything up and not caring, “I wouldn’t change a thing. From now on, I’d rather have you.”

He saw the utter confusion on everyone’s faces - from the hosts to the judges to the audience - but he didn’t care. Still holding Cas’ hand, he stepped close and wrapped his other hand around Castiel’s neck. Cas closed his eyes as Dean leaned in, and there was no hesitation as they kissed.

The crowd went nuts, cheering wildly. Cas dropped Dean’s hand and pulled him closer, and the cheers only got louder.

“Um, um,” Dean could hear Chuck saying, obviously unsure of whether or not to announce to the winner amidst all the noise. “Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak. You are the winners of _Dancing with the Stars_!”

The cheers got impossibly louder. Chuck was saying something about the runner-ups, and Dean could see Sam smiling and clapping. Bobby had his face in his hand, looking miserable and mouthing something about morning interviews, but Dean couldn’t even care right now.

It was utter chaos. Someone was trying to hand them the trophy, everyone was screaming, and there were microphones being shoved in their faces, but who cared as long as Cas kept smiling at him like that.


End file.
